


situation comedy (canned laughter free!)

by ClassicDazel



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Attempt at Humor, Humor, M/M, like they are friends but they despise each others' guts but they are friends, which is basically red vs blue in a nutshell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-18 19:19:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15492879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassicDazel/pseuds/ClassicDazel
Summary: "Suck a dick.""Oh, you suck a dick! Grif's, if possible.""You suck Church's dick, Tucker.""Suck my dick, Grif!""Shut up, I would rather suck Church's dick.""What?""Though you're a dick, Church; take offense""You suck a dick!"





	situation comedy (canned laughter free!)

**Author's Note:**

> alternative tittle: "I have cut the shit outta my foot because I stepped on a broken glass and I wrote this in the hospital while high on painkillers, painkillers are awesome omg."
> 
> like, that's the actual tittle of the draft lmao

"Simmons."

"Yeah."

"You ever wonder why we're here?"

Simmons lets out a long sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose. They are both lying on their respective beds, one at each end of the narrow room, as they always are at the end of every day. Their activities don't vary, either — Simmons is reading one of his book about physic and Grif is doing nothing under the disguise of meditation. Hearing that question, though, maybe he actually is mulling over something. The light of the lamp is not bright enough, and Simmons' eyes are getting as tired as the rest of his body is. He decides to put the book down as soon as this conversation is over. Hopefully, it will be soon.

"No."

"It's one of life's great mysteries, isn't it? _Why_ are we here?" Grif goes on as if he hadn't just been replied with a huge, sharp «no» and an unspoken «shut up» between layers. In fact, he is most likely not listening at Simmons at all, most likely using him as an excuse to think outloud. "I mean, are we the product of some cosmic coincidence, or is there really a God watching everything? You know, with a plan for us and stuff?"

Simmons stares blankly at the pages of the book. Grif is not done yet, he knows.

Sure enough, his voice is merely a murmur a few seconds later. "I don't know man, but it keeps me up at night."

 _Now_ he is done. Too many Philosophical Highlights™ not to know when he is done. Simmons grants his roommate a dry, uninterested «yeah» and closes his book. He leaves it on the nightstand along his glasses and turns the lights off. Anothet day, another dollar. Save he doesn't receive dollars, but knowledge and his fair share of pointless conversation.

This is the thing: Simmons does like college, he really does. His engineering degree is awesome, he is constantly surrounded by people with his same interests and (this might be the best thing ever) what used to make him a nerd in high school now makes him popular. Turns out the school's counselor was right about that cocoons and butterflies metaphor he always told Simmons. And, okay, perhaps he is exaggerating the degree of his popularity —he is not the king of the campus or something— but, hey, nobody bullies him anymore and like five people said hi to him on his way to class today; this is the most popular he has ever been.

There is this huge, annoying «but» with his college experience that is one more fire by flammable lube ago to eclipse everything else: this whole dorms thing? Bullshit. Don't be fooled by Hollywood, it is _fucking bullshit_. First a computer pairs you with a random stranger, and... actually, that's it, you're supposed to live with that random stranger. What could go wrong?

Despite answering rethorical questions usually got Simmons punched by bullies, and he is supposed to have learned his lesson by now, he is going to do it one more time: _everything_.

And, oh, Grif —lazy, disorganized, gluttonous, immature, reckless, filfthy, _lazy_ (he really can't stress «lazy» enough), selfish, immature, stubborn, tactless Dexter Grif— can barely be called a problem. Grif is... Grif is that feeling you get when you say «holy shit we call each other friends, when did that happen?» over and over again — you can't never really say how do you feel about that.

"Simmons?" Grif calls again, impatience growing on his voice.

Simmons' matching voice is muffled against the pillow. "Yeah."

"Seriously though, why are we here?"

The lights are on again. Without his glasses, Simmons only sees a big, tanned smudge wearing a white t-shirt stained by several condiments where Grif is supposed to be. Grif knows damn right that if he waits long enough, Simmons' plausible-but-not-quite-true obsession with hygiene will make him do his laundry again; according to his numbers, Simmons is expected to take the bait tomorrow at 5 P.M.

"Look, I highly doubt there is a giant, almighty man up there watching everything and everyone everywhere all the time," Simmons says, "but if there is, he probably didn't set a purpose for us. Like, he is almighty, he can do whatever the fuck he wants."

"No, no, no," Grif says in a hurry. "I mean, why are we _here_ , in college?"

"Oh." Simmons clears his throat. "Well, _I_ know that, the only question here is what are _you_ doing here?"

Grif shrugs as he leans on his elbow to get a better look of Simmons' baggy green eyes and unusually ruffled red hair. People usually look like that on midterms, but Simmons is such a huge nerd he even studies subjects he doesn't have. "Can't I have a hobby?" he always argues.

"It was this or the military," Grif replies.

Simmons is surprised by his sudden curiosity. "And what's wrong with the military?"

"You kidding, right?" Grif begins to chuckle, but cuts himself off. "I mean, soldiers are heroes, support our troops and all that, but just think about the daily training, waking up at 5 A.M., the _rationed food_ , running just for the sake of it!" He throws up his free hand. "'sides, following orders is not my strong point."

"Order is not your strong point, Grif." To make a point, he gestures to the barrier of clothes, pizza boxes, bags of chips and crumpled papers that separate Grif's bed from the rest of the world. "Do you even know what are you studying?"

"I would know if I studied whatsoever, but that's for nerds, you know?" Simmons hears Grif sniffing. That's the sound he makes when he suppresses a laugh. "Okay, I forgot who I was talking to."

Simmons realizes how much he needs to sleep when he can't think of a good comeback — if he wasn't bored of this conversation since before it began, he definetely is bored now. Simmons gives it for finished when Grif turns around on his beth (presumably looking for the one snack he hasn't eaten yet) and sighs again, this time out of general fatigue. He takes one last glance at the time: 11:24. Satisfactorily early.

Or it would be, had it not been for someone knocking on his door with a catchy rhythm. Over and over again. A naïve part of Simmons' brain dares to believe that if he waits enough, whoever is at the other side will give up. Grif gives up before them, however, and gets up to open the door. And that says a lot about his patience, because Grif has a stick to flip the light switch lest he has to make any effort whatsoever.

"Hey dude, is Simmons here?" goes the voice at the door even before it has been fully opened. Irrelevant question, since they should be able to see him from literally any corner of the room.

"Simmons, Tucker wants to see you!" Grif shouts, still.

Simmons gets up with an annoyed groan, the only reason being he knows Tucker would be able to scream at him over a megaphone if he flips him off as his logic reasoning wants him to do. And he knows he would because he has done it twice before. The first time, Grif's phone broke and he asked Tucker to be his alarm clock and, well, he undoubtely woke Grif up. The second time? The second time he was just being an asshole.

Simmons drags his bare feer to the door, the shape of Tucker shielding him from the light of the corridor and leans into the frame. "What do you want, Tucker?" he inquires, swallowing down a yawn. Grif pats his shoulder and goes back to his bed, where he can still snoop from the comfort of his mattress.

Tucker opens his eyes wide and grins in a too friendly way. "My laptop crashed and I thought you could fix it. You're like a genius with computers and stuff, right?"

"Tucker, before demanding you at least _one_ reason why I would want do that," he already earns a grunt from his neighbour, "I'm going to ask you a question: just how much porn do you have on your laptop?"

He throws his head back and rolls his eyes in an exaggerated movement. "Oh, come on Simmons, be realistic!" he rants. "Nobody actually _downloads_ porn. Why would you if you have all the free porn you want online? Porn is for losers who can't get the real deal, anyway."

"Bullshit!" Church chides from his and Tucker's room, his voice sounding clear and enviably vigorous. "You should see his browser history, it's sick!"

Grif chuckles and stares at the wall next to him as if he were looking at Church himself. More giggles come from other rooms; Donut's, unmistakable and Caboose's, perhaps (but does he even know why is he laughing?).

The dorms rooms walls might as well be made of paper, which is a good thing if you casually overhear Tucker plotting his plan of waking you up with a megaphone, but a bad thing if you can hear Donut and Doc's pillow talks while you're trying to sleep.

"Ignore him." Tucker waves a dismissive hand between them. "He is just cranky because his girlfriend has dumped him for THE FIFTH TIME!"

"FOURTH TIME, FUCKER!" As expected, Church shouts back.

Suddenly, Simmons has Tucker's arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer, and while with that new (but not surprising) information about Tucker he doesn't feel quite comfortable about the gesture, he doesn't do anything to get away. Simmons already knew this guy was a pervert since he introduced himself as Dick Simmons and Tucker merely replied with a «bow chika bow bow».

"Look man, don't do this for me, okay?" He pats Simmons' forearm. "Do this for you. You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours." He pats his forearm again. "So today you help me fix my laptop and tomorrow I help you getting laid with some chick." And again. "We all win, come on!"

Tucker is already pulling Simmons towards his room when he yanks away and crosses his arms unwaveringly.

"Suck a dick" he mumbles.

Tucker reacts with the most fake offended gasp.

"Oh, you suck a dick!" he retorts. "Grif, if possible."

"You suck Church's dick, Tucker" Grif protests, in an act you could mistake for friendship; Grif only stands up for Simmons when they are arguint with Tucker and Church, and viceversa.

"Suck my dick, Grif!" Tucker yells.

"Shut up, I would rather suck Church's dick" Grif argues.

Chuch knocks on the wall. "You what."

"Though you're a dick, Church; take offense" he adds.

"You suck a dick!"

"I said you _are_ a dick, not suck a dick!"

"Oh. Well suck a dick!"

"Who is sucking the what of who?" Donut chimes in merrily from his bedroom. His door cracks open, indicating they want to be part of the conversation.

"Grif is sucking Church's dick." Tucker's tone is mocking, still frivolous.

"I'm not saying I'm going to suck Church's dick" Grif huffes, narrowing his big almond eyes at the visitor on his door. "I'm saying I would rather suck Church's dick over your dick, dick!"

"Is this a game? Whose dick am I sucking?" Donut asks.

"Shut up, Donut, suck a dick!" Church shouts.

"Yeah, you said that but whose?"

"Simmons, if I haven't been clear enough yet, suck my dick."

Simmons feels quite dizzy; his eyes have been following at each speaker like in the most absurd tennis game ever, and he still has the nerve to snap just when Grif is about to tell someone to go and suck a dick.

"NOBODY IS SUCKING A DICK, FOR DICK'S SAKE— I MEAN FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

His roar does not linger in the following silence as much as he would have wanted to before Caboose talks from the room he has for him alone next to Church and Tucker's. Nobody knows what happened to his former roommate. Nobody wants to know.

"I'm sucking a popsicle stick, does that count?"

"We're talking about dicks, Caboose, not sticks!" Church scolds him.

"CAN WE STOP TALKING ABOUT DICKS THIS IS THE DUMBEST DISCUSSION EVER?" Great, his voice is cracking now. Simmons really doesn't know what atrocities he did in his past life to now deserve this.

"I think we have had them dumber" Doc corrects. And he is _not_ wrong, they have had them dumber, but is now when Simmons understand why bullies punched him when he answered rethorical questions.

"Sí, sois todos idiotas" Lopez mentions. Lopez rarely takes part in these... things that happen too often, and even when he does nobody can understand him in there (Donut really tries, though). Maybe it's good he got a room for his own, too.

The silence settles in once more, everyone frozen and expecting to hear the last word nobody says.

When the moment passes, and it is safe to say the Dicks War has come to an end, Tucker stomps his foot on the ground and swears under his breath.

"Okay, Simmons, don't help me," he concludes, "but don't come crying to me when you get tired of being a virgin, because I won't let you suck my dick."

"You break my heart. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Simmons!" jabbers Caboose. His loud voice is almost drown by the sound of Simmons slamming the door shut.

He is perfectly aware of Grif's eyes —half amused, half «what the fuck, Dick»— on him as he furiously crawls to his bead and furiously turns the lights on (because he found out not long ago you can do everything furiously if your neighbours piss you off enough), but he ignores him. In hindsight, it might have been a good thing that he never got invited to sleepovers back in school, because is they were half like this, he would have completely gave up this social life thing.

Seriously, his classmates tell him they don't even know their neighbours' names, and there he is, stuck in this hell of a corridor constantly having to put up with these people whose sanity is highly questionable, and with their cheese and wine hour, and their movie night, and their late-night shitty puns that make him crack up and stay awake, and their bold interest in his life.

Fuck them, friends are not supposed to make you feel like you want to kill them and—

Holy shit, he refers to them as friends, when did that happen?

"Simmons." Grif's voice is a whisper. He doesn't want anybody else to hear.

"Yeah."

"Just to be clear, don't suck my dick, please."

**Author's Note:**

> honestly I don't even know what I'm doing with this  
> just  
> s16 finale left me fucked up, I wanted to write dorks being dorks and I'm high and I think I'm funny, sue me


End file.
